


Not Like This

by GuardianofFun



Series: Killing me not so softly [3]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Death Fic, Descriptions of Injury, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: 'Tears blurred his vision as his chest tightened painfully. It couldn’t be him, it wasn’t him, this wasn’t happening.'Even when he knows it's true, he refuses to believe.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/gifts).



> I'm honestly so sorry I keep murderering the Enterprise crew? They're all getting it at this rate. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Written for Alykat's prompt over on tumblr!

The list of casualties was rolling in and Malcolm could see Archer’s eyes harden as he scanned the screen in front of him. Then his own panel began blaring again, and his eyes were drawn down as his fingers began working. Quickly, he set back into tactical officer mode, pushing the worry for his crew mates aside as he worked on getting the weapons system back online. The pirates had attacked out of the blue, shields covering them until it had been too late. 

Nimble fingers darted over his controls, eyes scanning both the view screen and his own with practiced skill. If he could just have a little more power, he thought, as the floor beneath him rocked. He pushed himself up, finding he had more grip if he stood. There was a bang on the other side of the bridge as a panel behind Hoshi shattered, followed by a small cry as the communications officer narrowly missed being hit by the glass. 

Another groan, and the decking beneath Travis jerked enough to throw the pilot from his chair. Malcolm tuned it all out, knowing that the fate of the ship largely resided on his shoulders. If they had weapons, they could fight back, and maybe they stood a chance. Finishing the last adjustments, he glanced over at the captain again.

“Captain, I’ll have weapons up if Commander Tucker can spare us some power!” he called over as the ship rolled again and he was forced to grapple with his console for support. The captain was staring at the screen, but waved a hand in acknowledgement. Malcolm’s hand tapped at the comm. panel on beside him. 

“Reed to Engineering,” Trip’s voice was quick to respond, and Malcolm let out a small breath of relief. 

“What’cha need Mal, we’re pretty busy right now.”

 “I’m going to need power diverted to weapons, if I can get these guys off our tail-” he was stopped short at the sound of a yell on the other side, and then the comm. link fizzled out. Worry spiked through his chest, as he saw the Captain straighten suddenly in his chair. 

The tinny voice of Hess came through. 

“Tucker’s down. We’ll have power to weapons in two minutes,” she said, her voice quick, but tinged with worry. Malcolm felt his stomach drop, but refused to let himself imagine what was happening. Besides, if he didn’t concentrate on his job, the whole ship was at risk. For now, thoughts of Trip had to be locked down, shoved away so that his cold and calculating side could take charge. 

Right on time, weapons received it’s power surge, and phase cannons were back online. Bracing himself against the rocking ship, Malcolm fired with precision and speed. Both ships fired at once, Malcolm’s attack managing to disable some of their weapons systems, but not before the alien’s attack hit the _Enterprise_. The bridge shuddered, and Malcolm barely had time to cry out before his console exploded outwards.

He was thrown against the bulkhead behind him, as pieces of his desk shattered. Heat washed over him as chunks of metal pushed him back, one sizeable chunk embedding itself in his cheek, another in his left arm. He groaned as he was dropped to the floor, his head spinning and face screaming in agony. He slumped for a moment, blinded by the flash of light that had sent him backwards. He could already feel blood dribbling down his face. 

There were voices calling, he was sure he could hear Archer shouting his name, and Ensign Ross’ voice close in his ear. He was being lifted, he though. There were hands at his back, and he tried to protest - he was needed on the bridge - but speaking made his throat burn. He tried to stumble blindly, but another wave beneath them sent him tumbling, and he passed out before he could hit the floor. 

* * *

 

Coming to, Malcolm found himself in sickbay. He heard himself groan as he went to sit up. It made his stomach turn to push himself upwards, but at least Phlox wasn’t beside him pushing him back down. That was his first indication that something was horribly wrong. 

Glancing around, he saw that every other bed was filled, and that there were six or seven crewmen lying propped up against the wall, or against the cabinets. Phlox and his medical team were stretched thin as they hurried to see to everyone. While his face had been seen to, he could feel the metal in his arm still, and realised he had been moved down the waiting list as patients in worse condition than him had been carried in. He could hear Phlox, his voice loud but commanding. 

“Jenkins is on his way, plasma burns-” Liz Cutler had cut him off before he could finish, already one step ahead of the doctor. The yells of the medics coupled with the still roaring engines made Malcolm’s head throb. The doors to sickbay slid open as the crewman was hauled in. Phlox looked around and spotted Malcolm moving to stand. He hurried over and helped Malcolm to stand.

“Lieutenant I’m sorry but I must ask for your bed.” He guided Malcolm to the wall, and then gave him a tight, pathetic attempt smile. “You should be fine for a few minutes at least, I will have someone see to you as soon as possible.” Malcolm nodded, unable to fully concentrate on the doctor’s words. 

As he moved to slide down the wall, intending to curl up until the throbbing in his face died down at least, his eyes caught on the darker part of sickbay, tucked behind Phlox’s display cases. A white sheet, stretched over a prone figure. 

Suddenly there was ice in his veins, and he stumbled to his feet. He willed himself to scan sickbay, check every face over and over again. Two of his armoury officers, crewmen from engineering - but the one face he suddenly needed to see was missing. With legs that threatened to drop him like a brick, he walked towards the body. The noise in sickbay blurred into one, an all encompassing blanket of white noise as time fell apart, and the only thing he could see was the shrouded figure. Afterwards, he could not say how long it took him to reach the body, nor how long his hands hovered above the sheet.

He prayed that he was wrong, he pleaded with anyone who cared to listen that the name rolling around his head was the wrong one. Tears blurred his vision as his chest tightened painfully. It couldn’t be him, it wasn’t him, this wasn’t happening. He fell to his knees.

His fingers skimmed the sheet, and he let out a cry as he realised the white sheet was dotted with red. His stomach rolled. Taking a breath, he tugged down the sheet. 

He screamed, despite the burning in his throat. The cold tears that fell did nothing to quell the anger swelling inside him, at the sight of Trip, lying still and white on the floor of sickbay. He felt his heart thumping in his chest, each beat another one Trip would never have.

His hands reached out, to check, to be sure that Phlox was right, even though he knew, full well that the man beside him was dead. 

“Trip?” he breathed, as he took in the sight of the open uniform and the mess of burns across his chest, shiny red and still weeping. He reached for Trip’s face, but it looked all wrong. Pale and sunken, there was nothing to suggest Trip had been talking to him only what, ten minutes before? A sob shook Malcolm, and suddenly the dam was broken. 

He grabbed at the charred edges of Trip’s uniform, pulling the man up so that he could hold him to his chest. Breaths came in choked sobs as he searched hungrily for any sign of life on Trip’s face. 

“No, please, no Trip, come on this isn’t funny-” he gasped. Every feeling he had ever had for Trip, every love sick grin or heart flutter, all came rushing out in one broken whisper. 

“Please, Trip, I love you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just hoping it was better than TATV tbh, but probably not.


End file.
